


Just in Time

by Hearrtonmysleeve



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: 2020, A sappy covid love story, F/F, quarentine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hearrtonmysleeve/pseuds/Hearrtonmysleeve
Summary: Miranda and Andy manage to reconnect in the midst of the craziness that is 2020. Slow burn Mirandy with a happy ending because I simply cannot help myself. Final part has been posted!
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 68
Kudos: 394





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wanted to write a somewhat realistic story that takes place in 2020. We could all use a little bit of romance at a time like this, couldn't we? All parts of this are written and will be posted within the next couple of days, they just need a bit of editing before they are ready for the world. The rating is due to content that will appear in the final chapter.

**April**

2020 probably changes Miranda in more ways than she will ever willingly admit. Overall, it is a terrible year. It brought on loneliness and isolation, not to mention many people coming face to face with hardship and death. But it also changes her fundamentally, in ways that are both good and bad. She is privileged enough for most of her self-reflection to be positive, but ever aware of how the pandemic affects those around her.

The first thing 2020 forces Miranda to do is plan. Back in the beginning of February before this strange virus had crossed the line into a worldwide pandemic, she made plans of course, because that’s what she’s always done. _Runway_ will always be its truest form in print, but luckily years ago they had the foresight to go digital as well. The _Runway_ app has been in full force, and has plenty of long-time subscribers. But after a while the growth of it began to plateau, not that she minded, because it continued to sell at newsstands. 

But in March, the country comes screeching to a halt. The printers begin to strictly limit volume, reserving their limited staff for printing newspapers and essential documents. The board of directors sends all employees in the Elias Clark building home to quarantine for a few months, as she expects. Daily, sometimes hourly Starbucks deliveries, lavish banquets, hundred-person photo shoots become somewhat of a distant memory.

In her personal life, her daughters are sent home from school one day with instructions to return in a month once everyone has properly quarantined. After all, the craziness of this virus is sure to be over by then and life should have returned to normal in a month or two. As the days pass, the stay-at-home orders stretch on as Caroline and Cassidy start to realize that their time in high school may have ended for good. They are as well-natured about the situation as they can be, but Miranda can tell they are pretty upset. Still, she chooses to help them look ahead and promises to throw them a huge bash right before they jet off to Yale for their freshman year of college.

The news of a cancelled in-person graduation ceremony comes in a surprisingly brief email on an April morning. The ceremony, like everything else these days is to be held virtually, each student has an allotted time slot in the school auditorium for socially-distanced diploma photos. The twins both cannot think of a more anti-climatic way to finish out their school days but just this once are choosing not to complain. Much.

It is not until then, when her daughter’s high school graduation is cancelled and headlines are filled with grim hospital horror stories that Miranda considers the fact that _Runway_ could be undergoing some permanent changes as well. Aware of the importance of a digital presence, she seeks out the fastest growing tech companies, web and app developers, and social media content strategists to ensure that her publication is not among the list of companies that do not make it to 2021. She did not work her whole life to get where she is, only to lose it all in a year full of unforeseen circumstances.

In a bout of nostalgia, she calls on the only person and friend whose judgement she trusts in the industry. Nigel. It can’t help to have a second opinion. At this point it has been years since he’s worked at _Runway_ and she would love to hear his voice. She bypasses his office number and assistants, selecting his personal cell number in her contacts.

The phone rings three times before Nigel’s surprised voice picks up. "Miranda! It’s lovely to hear from you."

"Is it?” She cracks, as she always does.

"Of course,” he says back easily, not taking the bait. “It’s been too long. How are things?”

“I cannot complain, all things considered," she replies.

“Well that’s good to hear. Are you losing your mind working from home?” Nigel asks. His memories of Miranda happily holding court in the _Runway_ offices are not distant. He knows she considers the Manhattan building her second home.

“We’re all finding ways to keep busy,” Miranda sighs. “However my children have rediscovered nerf guns and I’ve learned to make Beef bourguignon. Do with that what you will."

“Wow." His eyebrows raise at the news. “So you’re bored out of your mind, is what you’re saying.”

"Indeed. How are you holding up, Nigel?"

“If I’m being honest I would kill for a little human interaction. You know I’ve always been a social butterfly."

"I remember," Miranda says fondly. "Perhaps the downtime will give you a chance to plan one of your dinner parties."

“If I send you an invite, do you promise not to leave after 15 minutes?” Nigel jokes.

Miranda can’t help but chuckle, "For you, I’ll make an exception.”

After a break in the conversation Nigel finally broaches the subject. "Not that I’m unhappy to hear from you, I’m delighted actually,” he begins, “But I can tell something’s up. How can I help?"

Miranda pauses momentarily, caught off guard that he reads her so well even in the midst of seemingly casual conversation.

"I would love your input on a few things,” she says, considering her words carefully. “ _Runway’s_ digital presence leaves a bit to be desired. We have the app as well as a strong online presence but it could always be stronger. What are your thoughts? You know I’ve always trusted your opinion.” 

“I know you have files on hand. Why don’t you email them over while we chat. I can’t promise to tell you anything you don’t already know, but I’d be happy to take a look.”

Miranda clicks send on an email she’d already drafted. She decides to be grateful that Nigel knows her well. He reviews the content while she gives him a little more context. Most of his input is similar to those of her current content team. She is comforted that his own suggestions mirror her own.

“Thank you,” she says earnestly, as their hour-long conversation draws to a close.

“Of course.” Nigel says, "Don’t be a stranger.”

So Miranda hunkers down and adapts with the times. Unlike a few of her friends who refuse to get social media or keep up with the latest technology, Miranda knows that to stay afloat she must stay relevant. It helps that her daughters live with her and absolutely have to follow the latest trends.

Although, Miranda muses, she would be content with knowing less about TikTok dances and Riverdale, her daughter’s two new obsessions. She watches Caroline press record on her phone and move next to Cassidy to do a set of synchronized dance moves. The choreography is a little more suggestive than she would prefer, but long ago she learned to pick her battles. She turns back to her computer that sits on the kitchen counter as she prepares breakfast in the background.

“Girls,” she raises her voice slightly over the audio of Caroline’s phone, “Breakfast is ready.”

“In a minute!” Cassidy yells back, annoyed that they now have to film another take.

“If you’d like a cold omelette and avocado toast, that is your choice,” Miranda replies. 

She sits down at the breakfast table next to her meal.  
  
  
  
  
**May**

The second thing 2020 teaches Miranda is to slow down. Time in the age of COVID-19 becomes relative. It somehow seems to both lag and speed by as New York City shuts down then begins tentatively re-opening. Miranda is discomforted when after many weeks of quarantine, her sanctuary of a home starts to feel more like a prison. The monotony of doing the exact same thing day after day begins to wear on her spirit.

Coffee brewed at home does not have the same appeal as a fresh, scalding Starbucks latte. Her threatening glare at incompetent employees loses its edge over Zoom. Not to mention, planning her daily outfit was a ritual she enjoyed most of all, and even that (from the waist down) has become a waste of her time.

Loneliness is a foreign concept to Miranda, who just a few months ago could hardly stand to be in an elevator with another person. But before quarantine she was constantly surrounded by people- designers, staff, models, board members; she itched for a moment alone. These days her “bubble” consists of her daughters, her two assistants, and occasionally a wayward delivery person.

Miranda feels unsettled to sit in her home office day after day, wishing simply to feel someone nearby. Luckily the feeling usually passes after a while, especially with her newfound realization that there is a podcast for everything she can imagine, and a Spotify playlist for every possible mood.

Miranda has been blessed since an early age with the endless capacity to multitask. Until now she was grateful for it, but in this strange type of isolation it feels more like a curse. Keeping her body busy is far less of a problem once she discovers yoga and Pilates on Hulu. Not to mention her twice weekly video chats with her personal trainer. But keeping her mind busy has proven to be far more difficult.

In time that used to be filled with dinner meetings, late evening showings with designers, and spending time with her girls she now spends time sketching out designs that come to mind. Sometimes they land in the margins of her notebooks as she watches television with the children, and other times she keeps them in her sketchbook. 

Eventually, some of her sketched designs turn into actual sewing patterns, to Miranda’s own surprise. A few days ago she went as far as to dig her sewing machine out of the attic to see if any of her ideas were worth cobbling together. The machine is a little dusty, but she remembers paying a pretty penny for it and it seems to be in working order after a little maintenance. 

In search of a little mental stimulation Miranda opens up her Spotify while setting up her dressform, her eyes barely leaving the mannequin. She chooses an NPR current events podcast hoping to keep her mind engaged while deciding which piece to begin.

The first episode she listens to intends to interview two guests. The first is a woman who tells the entertaining tale of deciding to immigrate from Canada to the United States at the end of 2019. Miranda can’t help but chuckle at some of her stories and decides to keep listening as the second guest makes an appearance. The host begins his second introduction, “And next we have the amazingly talented writer Andy Sachs, here to answer a few questions about her recent project called Picture of Activism.”

The name stops Miranda short, calling to mind a young brunette who waltzed confidently into her office so many years ago. It has been ages since Miranda has thought of her. She remembers watching a fashion disaster with bushy eyebrows transform into an elegant assistant who seemed right at home in _Runway_ ’s glass walls. Surely it can’t be the same person.

It is. Andrea’s voice hasn’t changed in the many years they have been apart. “Hi Rob,” she says. Miranda can practically hear the earnest smile in her voice. “Thanks for having me.”

“Thank you for taking the time to join us. From what I see on your Instagram you’ve been pretty busy.”

“I take it you’ve seen my recent house plant collection,” Andy jokes.

“That and the virtual showcase you put together for all those high school seniors in performing arts.”

“Weren’t they amazing? I just kept thinking about how much it would suck to work so hard and not get to show it off or audition for college programs.”

“Well the event was certainly a success. The instagram live session had thousands of viewers.”

“Thank you,” she says modestly, “Those kids are the ones who are crazy talented. All I did was give them a chance. Hopefully college isn’t virtual forever, you know?”

“Aren’t you a dear.”

“You flatter me,” she replies easily.

Miranda whips her phone out of her pocket as Andrea speaks, typing “Andy Sachs” into Google and reading through a few results. Andrea mentions her newest project, a photo-illustrated series about the protests making their way across America. It was originally published in the New York Times but has since expanded into an upcoming series. The coffee table book will hold dozens of photos and articles from herself and others. Miranda is shocked to only be hearing of it now.

Andrea sounds so mature and accomplished. She can hardly compare this woman with the girl she remembers lecturing a few times in her office. To say nothing of the way she stormed out of her job in Paris. What’s more is that Miranda is actually impressed. She clicks “Buy Now” beneath the book on the Times website and selects expedited shipping.

Rob and Andrea talk, covering a few details of her recent project and future endeavors. After a few minutes the interview winds down.

“Let’s move on to something lighter to end the show,” Rob says switching gears.

“Fine by me.”

“Tell me about your first job.”

Andy laughs. “My first job ever, or in NYC?”

“Hmm, both! Why not?”

“My first job ever was selling hot dogs at my brother’s baseball games. I worked the concession stand.”

“Amazing,” he chuckles. “I would kill for one of those little boxes of caramel corn right about now.”

“Right? My first job in New York might surprise you actually,” she says coyly.

“Really? Lay it on me.”

“I actually worked at _Runway_ for a while. When I first got into the city. I was a personal assistant to Miranda Priestly.”

Miranda nearly drops the pincushion resting in her hand. This is the last place she expected her name to pop up.

Rob gasps comically. “Oh really? Somehow I can’t picture that.”

“It’s probably for the best. I was a walking disaster there at first. For some reason I wore a lot of beige. Fun fact, it was not my color. As I was told. Repeatedly.”

Rob laughs. “And then?”

Andy smiles ruefully, “And then I got my ass handed to me.”

He laughs. “I’ve heard Miranda is quite good at that.”

“Among other things.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“God, almost everything. She’s super intelligent and knows publishing and business like the back of her hand. Not to mention fashion. It’s in her blood.” Andy tries hard not to gush but the words practically fall out of her mouth. She can’t help it. Once she got to know Miranda up close it was hard not to admire her talent and drive. Even if Miranda probably has no memory at all of her tenure at _Runway_. 

“And she can find a way to make even the strangest accessories look appealing on paper, it’s pretty wild.”

“You speak quite highly of her for someone who worked there what, ten years ago?” Rob asks.

Miranda can’t help but agree. She remembers pressing Andrea’s number on her speed dial on a Parisian street corner, only to watch her toss her work phone into a fountain as she walked away for good.

“Something like that, yeah. If not more.”

“Even more surprising!”

“Yeah well, I learned over time that she was usually right about everything. Especially about one thing in particular. She told me this ages ago and I haven’t forgotten it.”

“What’s that?”

“No one can do what she does.”

Miranda plunks down heavily on the tufted stool beside her. What an odd little moment in time. After a beat she finds herself smirking. At least Andrea had the good sense to learn something important while at _Runway_. Usually Miranda was indeed always right.

The next day, Miranda logs onto Zoom for her weekly department head meeting. She hopes her leadership team has brought fresh ideas this time around. Working from home hasn’t brought out the best productivity in some of her employees. Although the pandemic has put stress on everyone and she tries to keep that in mind.

Luckily, the team is on their best behavior today. Christine, the head of advertising even has samples in hand that look passable. Wonders may never cease.

Miranda moves through the topics quickly, not wanting to take up valuable work time. “The content calendar deadline is in two days. Lou, what are our features for next month?” she asks.

The features editor is one she hired away from Condé Nast a few years ago. Lou has an odd sense of style and wears more leather than Miranda would normally allow, but she does good work. Somehow Lou always seems to have access to the newest accessories and latest news, not to mention she is able to bring featured guests to the magazine that Miranda would have otherwise had to negotiate for. She must have an extensive contact list. Miranda chooses not to ask questions.

Lou clicks un-mute and begins speaking, her faint Australian accent coming clearly through the microphone. “NYT is releasing their updated best sellers in two weeks. An old buddy of mine slipped me an advanced list.”

Miranda strokes her bottom lip with her finger as she considers the information. She doesn’t stop Lou outright, so she takes this as her cue to keep talking.

“I was thinking of scheduling some interview time with a few of the big shots, if we can get ahold of them.”

She considers shooting the idea down, especially if the list turns out to be a fluke. But Lou, in her four year tenure has yet to let her down so she takes a chance.

“Fine. What are our options?”

“There’s Matt McConaughey, he’s been trending a few weeks. His autobiography isn’t half bad. Should draw in a few new female readers,” Miranda nods as she continues, “As well as ‘Picture of Activism’ by Andy Sachs. It’s got a ton of cool photos and it’s wonderfully written. A retrospective on the history of protests and such. It will probably go over well with our intellectual audience.”

For reasons she can’t explain, Miranda feels like most of the air has been sucked out of the room. How odd that after years of not once thinking about Andrea Sachs, her name has come up twice in as many days.

“Very well,” she says softly, thinking of the parallels the interview is sure to draw. After all, she has never been one to shy away from opportunities, much less events coming full circle.

“Jocelyn,” Miranda says moving on, “Have the photos for the Balenciaga spread been completed? From what I was shown they required a great deal of editing.”

Jocelyn, promoted to creative director soon after Nigel’s promotion from Elias Clark, either has a brilliant poker face or has no recollection of Andy Sachs. “Of course, Miranda,” she says, looking only slightly nervous. “Let me go ahead and share my screen.”  
  
  
  
  
**June**

Andy is looking through an excel spreadsheet when she gets a forwarded call from her assistant that shocks the life out of her. Sometimes she finds it a little hard to believe that she is now a person who even has a need for an assistant. But most days she is too busy being grateful to have Ben, her talented PA fresh out of college, to notice. Luckily they have been able to stay connected via Slack, phone, and email throughout the pandemic.

“Hey Andy,” he says, “I know you wanted some heads-down time to look through those records but I have someone on the other line asking about an interview. You up for it?”

“Sure, send them through,” she agrees. “Thanks Ben.”

“You got it. Switching lines now.”

“Is this Andrea Sachs?” someone says into the phone, sounding somewhat frantic.

“Yes. And who am I speaking with?”

“My name is Eliza. I am assistant to Lou Miller, head of features at _Runway_ magazine.”

“Oh. Uh, hello,” Andy can’t help but stumble, trying to figure out if someone is pranking her. “ What can I do for you?”

“Would you be interested in doing a short interview for the upcoming issue? I know it’s last minute. Usually our features are given a bit more notice.”

Andy nearly drops her glass of tea. She sets it down shakily on the desk beside her, taking a deep breath. “ _Runway_?” she asks in disbelief. “Like the _Runway_? The fashion magazine?”

“The one and only,” Eliza chuckles. “Although we have definitely branched out over the years. We are far more than fashion these days. Your content would fit right in.”

“I’m sure,” Andy says, taking the bait after a quick LinkedIn search on Lou Miller. The woman in the profile photo has shaggy blonde hair and looks more like a rockstar than an editor but she has a bunch of _Runway_ connections listed. “I could definitely be interested. What are the topics for the interview?”

“We’d love to hear more about the work involving your recent series, as well as a few semi-personal questions. Totally professional of course. We can send them over in advance.”

“Hmm,” Andy says, thinking of all the possibilities. This could turn out to be an unlikely disaster but she is far too curious to turn the offer down. “Sure. I can have my assistant send over a meeting link after he checks my schedule.”

“Great. Thanks so much!” 

“No,” Andy replies, “Thank you!”

“There is one other small detail, Ms. Sachs,” Elize hedges.

“Yes?”

“The design department is requesting an updated photo. Miranda took a look at the dust jacket photo sent over by your editor and wants something more modern to fit the current spread. I just hit send on an email with a layout draft. One moment.”

“Miranda Priestly asked for me specifically?” Andy can’t help but make sure. This all feels like a fever dream.

“I believe she referred to you as ‘Andrea’ instead of Andy. But yes.”

“Wow. Give me just a second to take a look.”

“Of course. Do you have anything that would fit the theme? Something candid but professional. I’m afraid the color scheme and such is set in stone. Miranda approved it this morning.”

Andy takes a look at the clean, modern layout. None of her current photos would look seamless, as much as she hates to admit. “Unfortunately I don’t think I do. Is that a huge problem?”

“Not exactly.” Eliza states. “We have a photo shoot scheduled for next week in a renovated warehouse in Tribeca. If you don’t mind stopping by towards the end of it we can take a quick portrait of you then.”

“Sounds great,” Andy says, impressed. “Thank you.”

“Perfect. I will send over an appointment to add to your calendar.”

“Awesome. Works for me.”

“Glad to hear it. Thanks for your time, Ms. Sachs.”

Before Andy can ask this probably overworked assistant to stop calling her “Ms. Sachs,” Eliza hangs up. Apparently not much has changed since she has been gone. She doesn’t remember having the time for too many pleasantries over the phone either.

Just a few minutes later Andy receives an email with the calendar invite, location details, and time. Not to mention COVID testing requirements and preferred quarantine instructions. At least Eliza seems to have her shit together. That’s more than what Andy can say for herself for the first half of her time at _Runway_. Sometimes she wonders how she even got the job, considering she didn’t bother to Google Miranda Priestly before showing up in her office. 

How weird that Miranda approved an interview with an assistant who left her side during the most important week of her year? To say nothing of the recommendation written for her first position at The New York Mirror. Andy did send a sheepish thank-you-slash-appology email after the fact, but of course it went unanswered. The entire incident still makes her cringe. Miranda’s not crazy enough to try and get the best of an old assistant a decade after her crimes, is she?

There’s only one way to find out.

* * *

With her negative COVID test in her pocket, Andy climbs the four flights of stairs in the building Eliza listed in her email. If the address wasn’t clear enough, the production team loading photo and makeup equipment into a van on the sidewalk would have clued her in to the correct location. The renovated warehouse has gorgeous architecture. The huge bay windows lining the walls grant tons of natural sunlight that gleams off of wood floors. It’s a photographer’s dream.

At the top of the staircase, she follows the sound of the remaining commotion, hearing a few voices talking in the last room down the hall. Turning into the room, she takes in her surroundings.

In one corner there is a makeup station, travel vanity, sanitized single-use makeup samples, and a can of disinfectant spray. On the other side of the room by the large bay windows there is a styled stool, with a backdrop of plants and knick-knacks. To the untrained and unknowing eye, it could pass for her casual apartment in a photo. She has to admit that the set up will match the layout sent over to her email perfectly.

She looks around the huge room and counts four people: the photographer snapping sample photos, the lighting assistant adjusting flash panels, the makeup artist boredly checking her phone, and Miranda Priestly herself, looking about as smug as humanly possible.

Miranda cannot hide her amusement at catching Andy unawares. Of course she looks stunning, as if the last decade hasn’t touched her at all. She is dressed in all black, as is her signature, making her silver hair stand out in a brilliant contrast. The mask covering her lips sports a pattern of subtle Versace logos. Each Medusa head mocks Andy as Miranda’s sharp blue eyes take her in from head to toe. Just as calculating as ever.

“Hello Andrea.”

Andy tries not to audibly gulp. “Hello, Miranda.” She realizes she has two options: play the cowering, apologetic past assistant, or let Miranda see how much she’s grown and evolved into the bestselling writer she set out to be from the start.

Andy takes her courage in both hands and approaches Miranda, wishing she could see her mouth behind the mask. She doubts Miranda is pursing her lips, especially after all the time that has passed, but one can never be too sure.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, a bit surprised at the calm clarity in her own voice.

“It’s good to see you haven’t gone back to wearing Costco sweaters.” Miranda replies.

Andy laughs. “That was almost a compliment.” Andy has no idea where her boldness is coming from. But then again, if this year has taught her anything it’s to take the bull by the horns while she has the chance.

“Almost.” The snarky reply has no real bite to it. 

“As soon as Jenna is finished with your makeup we will be ready to begin.” Andy takes that as her queue to head over to the vanity in the corder. The woman apparently named Jenna has a stylish short cut of hair dyed a flattering purple color. She slathers on a healthy dollop of hand sanitizer all the way to her elbows and gestures to the makeup chair in front of her.

“Ready?” Jenna asks.

“You bet.” Andy removes her mask and sets her small purse on the desk preparing to be beautified. Around fifteen minutes pass while Jenna works her magic, using soft tones to accentuate Andy’s best features. Her eyes seem to sparkle under the subtle peach eyeshadow and the tinted lip gloss accentuates her full lips. Jenna takes the liberty of running a curling iron through a few strands of her hair as well, underscoring the shiny natural waves. Who knew thirty minutes of effort could make Andy Sachs look like a damn Disney princess? She makes sure to thank Jenna for her work before making her way to the portrait set up.

“Hi, I’m Andy.” She sticks out her hand in greeting.

“Jakob Isles,” the photographer responds, “Nice to meet you.”

“How do you want me?” She asks him.

“I’m thinking casual is best. Pretend you’re having a conversation and I’ll take some candids.”

It’s obvious pretty quickly that Andy is in fact, terrible at looking casual while talking to a ghost. Not to mention, she can feel her awkwardness which doesn’t make matters any better. Miranda, almost with a sixth sense steps over to the set-up.

“How are things?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“A little stiff. Do you mind having a quick conversation with Andy here while I grab some shots? I need her to loosen up just a bit.”

“Certainly.” Miranda says, as if this is something she does every day.

Andy tries not to sweat through her blouse.

“I hear you’ve done well for yourself,” Miranda begins.

“Oh really?” Andy’s brows inch up to her forehead. “And where did you hear that?”

Miranda rolls her eyes. “Fine. I read Pictures of Activism. It’s good work.”

“Wow. Thank you. It’s probably my favorite piece I’ve done so far.”

“Really? You wouldn’t say your article on the sustainability of the American lifestyle ranks above it?”

“Oh my God.” Her shock will apparently know no limits today. “You Googled me?”

“Of course I did. I need to make sure anyone featured in _Runway_ has an acceptable background.”

“I’m honored.”

“I’m sure. Jakob, get some shots from the left as well, please.”

“Yes, Miranda.”

“I mean it. I really admire your dedication, Miranda. You’ve created an empire.” Andy continues.

It’s Miranda’s turn to look shocked.

“I used to think it was all just clothes and shoes. But it’s so much more than that.”

“It is.” she agrees.

“So thank you. For the opportunity. Well, the opportunities really. I never would be where I am now if you hadn’t taken a chance on me.”

“Oh I’m sure a humble start at Auto Universe would have been just fine.” Andy can see the smile that reaches Miranda’s eyes. Even with the mask obscuring her mouth Andy can tell that she is pleased.

“You know what I mean.”

“You’re welcome.”

The shoot runs fairly smoothly after that. With those words off her chest, Andy relaxes into the scene. Jakob is efficient and direct, guiding her through the photos with gentle instruction. The sun is just beginning to turn golden as they wrap for the day. Even though it wasn’t exactly torture, Andy is relieved to have the task completed.

Outside on the sidewalk Andy turns towards Miranda. “That was fun,” she says.

“You’d say that wouldn’t you?”

Andy knows better than to thank Miranda yet again before she departs, but she feels grateful to give her _Runway_ experiences some closure without any bloodshed. She has a feeling that if Miranda were in a particular mood today could have ended very differently. 

Instead, she goes out on a limb and asks Miranda a question she never in a million years thought she would.

“Do you have another appointment? Right now, I mean.” She checks her watch and sees the time approaching 6PM.

“I was about to head home. Usually around this time I start dinner for the girls.”

“Would you want to grab a drink with me first? No pressure. My friend Gavin is the chef at the Beekman hotel. The rooftop restaurant is pretty amazing actually. I can have him save a spot for me.”

Miranda pauses for a second, considering the option. “I haven’t actually dined out since mid-March. Is it safe?”

“Gavin was a neat-freak way before 2020. I’m sure it’s spotless. If you wanted to walk, it’s just a few blocks west.”

“Alright.” Miranda finally agrees. “Lead the way.”

Andy calls in their reservation as they walk and Miranda has a memory flash back to her of a distant time, in which Andrea made many calls just like this one on her behalf. It shouldn’t feel so nostalgic but it does. Perhaps she is getting soft in her old age. In no time at all they approach the hotel entrance, riding the elevator to the top floor. The patio is surprisingly empty, but after all it is a weeknight.

As they take their seats Miranda is hit by just how much she has missed the simple pleasure of dining and being served. She isn’t stupid - being a “high risk” person due to her age has made her cautious. However nice it feels to get out of the house for something other than work, she promises herself not to make a habit of it.

Miranda orders a vodka martini with a lemon twist and Andy takes a chance on one of the mixed drinks on the cocktail menu. She also puts in an order for a few appetizers that look tasty as well. Miranda doesn’t stop her.

As they wait for the food, conversation comes surprisingly easily. Apparently all of the water under the bridge was great for loosening the tension. The liquid courage doesn’t hurt either.

“How have things been?”Andy asks as Miranda takes a sip. “I see the _Runway_ app is on the top 20 in the App Store. Not that I’m surprised.”

“You’ve been following along?”

“Are you serious? Of course I have. I will have you know I have varied interests.”

“As do I.” Miranda says with a smirk. “That’s one thing COVID has been good for.”

“Do share! Please don’t tell me you have a TikTok though. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“Of course not.” Miranda waves the notion away with a flick of her wrist. “But I’m sure if you find one of my daughters’ accounts I am somewhere in the background looking exasperated.”

“Oh my god.” Andy laughs.

“Indeed.” Miranda finishes off her martini, ordering a glass of water as the food arrives. She can’t help but admire how nice Andrea’s smile is and how soft her hair looks as the sun gleams off of it. After all, it is her job to appreciate beauty in all its forms. To think this same woman used to be hidden under tragic skirts and bulky sweaters is a bit ironic to say the least.

“What about you? What does Andrea Sachs do when not topping the bestseller lists?”

“Oh gosh,” she sighs. Thinking of hobbies is sometimes difficult when they aren’t right in front of you. “Probably what anyone else does. I tried Chrissy Tiegen’s banana bread recipe when it trended on Twitter. What else? I watch a lot of Youtube. My cooking has gotten exponentially better, too.”

“Once my chef stopped making dinner, mine did too.” Miranda agrees.

“Wow. That must have been an adjustment, to say the least.” Andy remembers running into personal chefs and cleaning staff countless times delivering the book. At one point Miranda had seemed like the busiest woman on the planet, there was no way she had time to cook and clean every night.

“It was for the best, as much as I hate to admit.” Miranda sweeps one lock of hair out of her eye as the wind around them picks up. “At least my daughters have benefited. Apparently I make vegan ramen better than their favorite place down the street.”

“Vegan?” Andy looks scandalized, “Are you telling me Miranda Priestly has given up red meat?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea,” Miranda says with an eye roll. “I have changed a lot this year, but not that much.”

Andy looks ridiculously relieved. She moves on to asking about Caroline and Cassidy, one of Miranda’s favorite subjects. Andy never minds listening to Miranda speak. She’s pretty notorious for being a little tight-lipped, especially when it comes to small talk. This doesn’t feel like small talk at all actually. It feels more like catching up with an old friend. A beautiful, fascinating friend who can be very charming when she wants to be.

Once the sun begins to set, they decide to leave the patio and make their way home. Miranda has had a surprisingly good time, and tells Andy so as she waits on the sidewalk for her driver. Andy hunts in her pocket for her phone and hand sanitizer preparing to call for a Lyft.

Andy slips a card out of her wallet. “I know you have my work contacts, but these are my personal.” She scribbles a phone number and email on the back of her business card and hands it over to Miranda. “Thank you for the lovely evening.” she smiles. “Send me that ramen recipe when you get the chance. Okay?”

Miranda accepts the card, slipping it discreetly into her clutch. “Alright.”

“Have a good night, Miranda.”

“You as well,” she says, smiling softly as she steps into the back seat of a silver Mercedes.

* * *

To Andy’s surprise she receives an email just a few days later with a very involved vegan ramen recipe. Not only is the message from Miranda’s personal email address, but she even includes a phone number. And to her delight, two photos are attached as well. In one photo is a pristine, magazine worthy photo of a bowl of ramen that makes Andy’s mouth water. The second is a hilarious photo of two red headed twin girls using chopsticks as makeshift drum sticks on porcelain bowls. Andy hardly recognizes them. They look so grown up. She jots off a quick reply before she forgets.

_Woah, thanks for this recpie. I may or may not be drooling. It seems a bit more involved than I may be comfortable with but perhaps I will try it one day when I am feeling ambitious._

_I love seeing the girls! Are they eight or eighteen? Either way I’m digging the whole “Ramen Bowl Rock Band” vibe._

On a whim, she decides to include a tidbit of her own, should Miranda be in the mood for correspondence. She copies and pastes a link into the message. 

_Have you read this article? It’s about ethics in mask and gown production and how it’s trickling into the clothing/fabric industry._

_Made me think of you,  
x- Andy_

The following Saturday morning, Miranda idly checks her email and remembers that she forgot to respond to the article Andrea sent over. It may be too late since a few days have gone by but she figured late is better than never.

_I read the article you sent over. Very interesting. Am I sensing a new project in the works? If so, attached are a few resources that could be useful._

_Stay safe,  
M_

A few minutes later Miranda’s phone chimes with a text message.

**_A: Hello! I just got your message and I will be sure to check out your sources. Thanks for those! Sorry for texting back instead of sending an email. I’m out on my daily quarantine walk._ **

**_M: It’s a lovely day for it. Did you try the ramen recipe?_ **

**_A: Not yet! But take a look at this:_ **

Miranda waits patiently for the photo to download into her message stream.

**_A: These fish tacos I made for breakfast were 10/10 amazing. Used my home-grown cilantro in the avocado crema. Am I fancy yet?_ **

**_M: Very fancy. Not that to say that they don’t look delicious, but you had fish tacos for breakfast?_ **

**_A: Welcome to 2020, where time is made up and the rules don’t matter! :P  
_**   
TBC


	2. Part 2

**July**

It is an odd feeling, becoming tentative friends with someone that has not crossed your mind in years. Still, Miranda seems to find comfort in it. It’s nice having someone to talk to that is not necessarily a part of high society, but still adjacent to it. She finds herself sending off a quick email to Andrea with updates on her personal protective equipment sourcing project, or sometimes on the receiving end of a quirky text message.

Sleep has never come easy for Miranda, especially on days that feel so monotonous lately. Searching for a distraction around midnight, she checks her email and sends a few off as well even if she knows they won’t be answered until morning. 

On the other side of town Andy’s phone chimes with an email notification, waking her up from her reclined position on the couch. It’s probably for the best; she should have been in bed a few hours ago. She checks the subject line and makes sure there is no emergency that needs coverage and sees that the sender is Miranda. She decides to check in via text.

**_A: Isn’t it past your bedtime?_ **

**_M: Usually. But a combination of Starbucks too long after lunch and good old fashioned insomnia had other ideas._ **

**_A: Try the Great British Bake-off on Netflix. It’s insanely comforting. I’ve been dozing to it for two hours._ **

Miranda finds the recommendation sweet but refuses to say so.

**_M: Will do. Goodnight._ **

**_A: Sweet dreams._ **

After years of just casually browsing _Runway_ at newsstands and checking the app on occasion, Andy becomes an avid reader. She enjoys seeing spreads and collections Miranda mentions in passing come to life on the pages. She is even more entertained when the layout and photos end up looking gorgeous after hours of Miranda complaining about everyone’s incompetence. _Runway_ has always been its own little universe it seems, and Andy has always been slightly out of orbit. But now, she is as close as she has ever been to its magnetic force in the center, Miranda.

She mentions her friendship in passing to her friends one day as if being friends with a boss who tormented you in all of your waking hours years ago is somehow not a big deal. But it feels huge. Part of her has always been drawn to Miranda. Even years ago when Andy thought she was a raving bitch Miranda still managed to impress her. She could worry that her admiration has veered into having a crush but instead she decides to enjoy it. Sometimes it's nice to be attracted to someone from a distance, it doesn’t mean she ever has to act on it.

She is a bit careful with her interactions. The last thing Andy wants to do is annoy Miranda, or worse, creep her out. Still, she can’t help but enjoy talking to her. And she can tell Miranda feels the same. Miranda is not someone who falls into the habit of doing things she does not wish to do, or talk to people she would rather not interact with. At least not in her personal life. Once Miranda figures out that Andy doesn’t intend to ask her for favors or need her for any sort of professional alliance she loosens up considerably.

Miranda pauses working one day in order to refill her coffee cup. Out of the kitchen window she sees both Caroline and Cassidy laid out on chaise lounges in the backyard, soaking up some mid-afternoon sun. She doesn’t bother to lecture them a second time about sunscreen after all the eye-rolling she received this morning. Instead, she takes them out a few bottles of chilled Pellegrino to keep them hydrated. No one can tell Miranda she doesn’t know how to pick her battles.

Back at her desk, Miranda checks her phone. She is pleased to see a text from Andrea.

**_A: OMG. The Marc Jacobs spread this month is beautiful. Seriously. Those photos are gorgeous._ **

**_M: Thank you. I will tell Jocelyn they are acceptable._ **

**_A: High praise! I’m still drooling over the crossbody bag on page 63._ **

Miranda flips through the paper copy on the edge of her desk to admire her work. The brown leather bag pictured is the perfect mixture of fashion meets functionality. She could picture it on Andy perfectly.

**_M: It would certainly suit your style._ **

**_A: You think so? Maybe I’ll grab one as soon as I actually have places to go again._ **

**_M: Noted. Stay tuned for your feature in the next issue._ **

**_A: Can’t wait. x_ **

When her own featured interview is released in _Runway_ Andy finds herself too nervous to actually read the article. Instead, she ogles the Balenciaga spread even while knowing that she would never attempt any of the outlandish outfits pictured on the models. She does the fashion crossword in record time, scribbling in all the answers from the last issue. Finally she can’t avoid it any longer and turns the page.

Looking down at her casual, smiling face Andy can hardly believe it. The graphics team did a wonderful job on the retouching and Jakob captured her marvelously. She looks relaxed and happy, instead of slightly tense as she tends to look in most photos. She reads carefully over the words too, making sure they flow together as seamlessly as the rest of the layout.

After reading, she doesn’t hesitate to call Miranda. As if expecting her Miranda answers after just one ring.

In lieu of greeting Miranda says, “You’re on speaker. I’m making beef ragu.”

“Oooh yum. Sounds delicious. What are you serving it with?” The suggestion of food reminds Andy that it has been more than a few hours since her last meal.

“Asiago polenta and garlicky greens.” She chuckles, “Is that your stomach growling?”

“I skipped lunch.”

“That’s what happens when you make tacos for breakfast.” Miranda quipps.

“That was weeks ago, Miranda,” Andy laughs. “Let it go.”

Miranda is a little shocked to realize that interaction indeed took place weeks ago. Somehow speaking this casually with Andy feels like they are old friends. Yet somehow the conversations are still thrilling. She enjoys them.

“I called to say thank you for the feature. It was wonderfully done. I mean it.”

Miranda is oddly touched. “Of course. I’m glad to know the article was up to par.”

“It was. Thanks for sending me a preview.”

“Takes a control freak to know one.” Andy can practically hear her smirk.

“The photo looks awesome too,” Andy continues.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I look normal, which doesn’t always happen on film. I tend to get kind of tense. Not to mention the camera usually adds ten pounds. And four wrinkles.”

“I think you look beautiful.” Miranda says without thinking. Her hands pause their cooking as her own words catch up to her.

Andy pauses. “Is that a professional opinion?”  
“It is.” She answers. No point in trying to renege.

“I can’t see you right now, but I’m pretty certain you look beautiful too.” She says. 

Miranda deflects. “Is that a professional opinion?”

Andy is a little caught off guard. Pleased, but surprised. Miranda Priestly just may be flirting with her. She clears her throat. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

Caroline and Cassidy come bursting into the kitchen, completely unaware of their terrible timing. “Something smells good,” Caroline says at the same time her sister pipes up, “Yum, carbs!”

“I’ll let you go,” Andy says coming back to reality. “Tell the girls I said hello.”

“Bye Andrea.”

“Talk soon.”

* * *

Miranda orders the Mac Jacobs crossbody bag Andy had raved about with her personal credit card and has it sent directly to her home. She even calls the store on Madison Avenue herself. She was a little amused at how the shop attendant managed to stumble through the conversation even while a bit star struck. At the last minute, she adds two small wallets to her order and plans to give them to the girls before they head off to school.

As soon as the bag arrives she goes about finding the perfect supple brown leather to match. There’s a fabric store in SoHo that is older than she is and she plans to check there after her internet search has proven to be fruitless. Surely they must have exactly what she needs.

Mask set in place, sunglasses over her eyes, and a wide brimmed sun hat are the perfect disguise. Miranda knows the easiest way to not be spotted by paparazzi is to hide in plain sight, even if she’s sweating like a whore in church. At least Roy has the air conditioner blasting and she doesn’t plan to be in the shop for long.

Immediately she sets her sights on the back of the store where she can see sheets of hides and leathers. She selects a few yards of the perfect caramel colored leather and has it cut by the attendant. She grabs a heavy duty presser foot for her sewing machine and some heavy-duty thread as well, just to make sure the process is as seamless as possible.

Roy idles by the curb faithfully as she steps out of the shop, her task happily completed. She knows his retirement is coming soon. Even while being happy for him and so grateful for the hard work he has put in over the years, Miranda is selfishly pleased he has yet to declare retirement formally. He may even hold on until the bitter end, just like someone else she knows.

Back at home, thoughts of her next sewing project distract her enough to make getting her work done difficult. She has picked up some slack from a few of her employees who seem to think that “working from home” is the same as “playing video games next to your work laptop and occasionally moving the mouse.” Thankfully, most of the dead weight has been let go but that leaves more to do on her own plate.

Not today, though. She promises to think about it tomorrow. Today she wants to let her mind wander as her hands bring another one of her creations to life. Her closet is practically bursting with outfits by now. Some are gorgeous fall pieces, some are trendy things intended for the girls, and others are whimsical statement pieces that would only really be found on a red carpet. 

She finds herself a little anxious when she thinks about any of the pieces actually seeing the light of day. She knows there is only one real way to determine if they are good enough to be of any worth. Some days Miranda wonders if after _Runway_ some of her own work could grace its pages. That could certainly make for a nice change of pace.

AirPods in her ears, Miranda sets to work and starts cutting the fabric for the leather jacket. She chooses a peaceful playlist instead of her usual podcast. She needs all of her concentration to make sure that Andrea’s measurements are 100 percent perfect. Andrea has filled out just a little since her _Runway_ days, but carries it beautifully. 

As of now, Miranda is choosing not to question why she has purchased a thousand dollar leather bag for Andrea, is making a custom piece of clothing that matches perfectly, and plans to have them both sent via messenger. Andrea is a charming, beautiful friend who deserves wonderful things. Since Miranda can willingly and easily provide those things, why should she deny herself the pleasure?

And if Andrea happens to read into her gift, well, that wouldn’t be so awful. Would it? And if she doesn’t read into it at all, that wouldn’t be so bad either. Right?

Right. Sure. Miranda will figure it all out in due time. She always does.

After a few hours of measuring and sewing, Miranda’s phone rings. It has gotten pretty late and she knows the only person comfortable calling her at such an hour is her assistant or Andrea. Prepared for either at the end of the line, she simply answers, “This is Miranda.”

“I sure hope so,” Andy replies. “I have a weird question.”

Miranda heaves a dramatic sigh to Andy’s delight. “Yes?”

“Have you seen Tiger King?”

“Tiger what?”

Andy gives her a brief synopsis. After listening dutifully she almost rolls her eyes. “Absolutely not.”

Andy chuckles, “I’m not sure why I expected anything different. Damn it. The video I was going to send you won’t make any sense otherwise.”

“Send it to Cassidy,” Miranda supplies. “She made a reference to someone named Carole Baskin the other day that now makes sense.”

“Message received. Have a good night!”

“You as well.” Miranda turns back to her work.  
  
  
  
  
**August**

Miranda has been dreading this day for months. She should be grateful that her incredible, brilliant daughters are getting an Ivy League education. They have somehow blossomed into such dazzling young women right before her eyes. Somehow that thought just makes it even harder to see them off.

She is skeptical about allowing them to go anywhere at all in the middle of this neverending pandemic but she cannot stifle them forever. Caroline and Cassidy have already gone though cancelled graduations, parties, and every other social event of the summer. At least at Yale they will be rooming together and sharing a suite style dorm room with only two other girls. Miranda has hoped that Yale would postpone in-person classes until the virus was more under control but the institution stubbornly presses on.

For weeks she has helped her daughters pick out decorations, has been stockpiling disinfectant wipes, has purchased books and laptops and clothing. The girls are gracious enough to allow Miranda to ride with them as Roy drops them off on the sidewalk of the dorm. She thinks that her children may be a bit more nervous than they are admitting to allow such a thing but she takes this as the gift that it is.

Finally, every item has been brought and deposited in their tiny room that contains little more than two lofted beds and two desks. Miranda can no longer prolong the inevitable and prepares to leave. Worst possible scenario is that the university sees how dangerous holding in-person classes is and sends them both home in a week or two.

From her oversized shoulder bag Miranda pulls out two pairs of high-waisted jeans she crafted by hand. Of course they were created with the latest trends in mind, as her daughters take after her in more ways than one. After unfolding their impromptu gift, Cassidy tackles Miranda in a huge bear hug. “These are awesome! Thanks mom!”

Caroline looks up at her, a few unshed tears shining in her blue eyes as the magnitude of the gesture hits her. She knows her mom could have had one of her assistants pick up the latest fashion from any boutique in the city. But instead her mom has chosen to make them something. A pair of jeans is a stupid thing to cherish but she vows to do so anyway. She gives her mother a long hug as well, taking comfort in her softness and smell, committing it to memory.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.” Miranda says at the threshold of the door.

“Of course, Mom. We have pepper spray and hand sanitizer,” Caroline says, easing the sad tension in the room.

“And DoorDash! What more could we need?” Cassidy pipes up.

“I’ll send more cleaning supplies in a few weeks,” Miranda assures them.

“Okay, Mom.” The pair replies in unison.

“Wash your hands. A lot. And no parties.”

“OKAY, Mom,” they say, exasperated.

“I love you both.” Miranda somehow pulls off looking more prideful than maudlin. “I’ll miss you.”

“We know,” they say in unison, a little more contrite. She wraps them both in a giant hug. “We’ll miss you too.”

* * *

Back in her empty home Miranda throws herself into her work, because what else is there to do? She edits the book every night with determined precision, marking details with her apple pencil as she used to do on the physical copy. She sews a deep red corset-style camisole, adds flirty pleats to an A-line skirt, and finally puts the finishing touches on the brown leather jacket she began a short while ago. 

She holds it up when it is finished to admire her work. It fits Andrea’s style perfectly, she hopes it fits her body just as well. Before packaging both the jacket and Marc Jacobs bag neatly, she sews a label inside the collar. It bears a simple “M” in serif font. She wonders if Andy will notice it.

Before she can talk herself out of her plan, Miranda summons a courier service and has her package picked up and delivered. She hopes that Andrea will not find the gesture silly or insignificant. It is common knowledge that Miranda does not trust easily. And she does not spend hours of her time creating thoughtful gifts for people that she does not trust and enjoy.

That night before she turns off her bedside lamp, Miranda’s cell phone rings. She checks the caller ID and sees the familiar name pop up. Her heart picks up as she answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey! I’m glad I caught you before you fell asleep. I just opened a very fancy package with your return address.” Her voice softens. “I just want you to know that I never thought I would cry sentimental tears of joy over clothing but here we are.”

Miranda laughs, easing the nerves that had drawn tight in her belly. “So you like it?”

“Of course I do! We all know I have been lusting after this bag for a while now. And only you would find the perfect jacket to match. Fits me like a glove and everything.”

“I’m glad. I was a little worried the jacket wouldn’t suit you.” Miranda says honestly. 

“Are you kidding? I love it. It’s 75 degrees outside but I am having a hard time finding a reason to take it off,” Andy gushes.

Miranda chuckles, “Please don’t pass out, I don’t want to be within twenty feet of a hospital if I can help it.”

“Fine. But at the first gust of wind I am taking this jacket on its maiden voyage.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’re going to kill me, but I can’t place the designer. The style seems completely unique. I know I haven't seen it in _Runway_.”

Miranda pauses, trying to decide whether or not to show her hand. Ultimately she remembers that life is short and few people thrive by being a coward. “Well, perhaps because it’s me.”

“What?” Andy cries in disbelief.

“The designer is me,” Miranda admits. “I have gotten back into sewing in my down time. I could not seem to find the perfect jacket to compliment the bag you wanted. So I made one.”

“Oh my god. You’re incredible, Miranda. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I’m sure we will find something one day.”

“I doubt it. Wow. I’m truly touched,” Andy’s voice quivers a little. A handmade gift from Miranda fucking Priestly? She feels like the luckiest girl in the world. “Let me take you out someplace to thank you. Would you let me?”

Miranda thinks for a moment. Most restaurants have opened back up somewhat so they should be alright, at least while dining outside. Not to mention she would absolutely love Andrea’s company.

“Alright,” she says after her decision is made. “If you insist. Just tell me when and where.”

Once they hang up, Andy calls Gavin to arrange a reservation. What seems like a lifetime ago she met Gavin when he was working at a restaurant with Nate and he’s always been such a nice guy. It’s not a coincidence either that he is the head chef at a NYC five star hotel either. He was always a better chef than her ex, even though she would have been crazy to ever tell him so.

Of course she could take Miranda to any one of her favorite fancy restaurants but she does not quite trust indoor seating these days. The rooftop where they caught up so many weeks ago should accommodate them quite nicely. She asks her friend if he could possibly whip up something special for the two of them, and of course he agrees. Miranda Priestly’s name still has the ability to pull miracles out of people every day. 

She emails the details to Miranda so they can be added to her calendar. Miranda accepts the invitation almost immediately and begins to count the days until she will see Andrea in person once more. The anticipation sets off a few flutters inside of her.

Luckily she does not have to wait too long. Friday evening finds the pair being seated by a hostess who lights a tealight on the table before filling water and wine glasses. “The first of your selections will be out shortly,” she says.

Miranda shoots a questioning look at her dinner partner. Andy answers, “I called ahead to order something special for us. I hope that’s alright.”

Miranda’s eyes soften as she tries not to let a smile peek through. Andy can tell she is pleased. The twinkly hanging lights and candle on the table cast a glow on Miranda that makes Andy wish she had a camera. Set against the backdrop of a glittering city skyline she is perfection personified. Andy is _so_ screwed.

She tried so hard to not be just another one of the many people who have fallen under Miranda’s spell. And before tonight Andy hadn’t seen her in person in a few months. She could pretend that this was just another passing crush that would fade in time. But goddamn it, the woman is just so damn _pretty,_ not to mention sharp as a tack. The combination makes her head swim. It’s probably high time she admits to herself that what she feels is a little bit more than a friendly neighborhood crush.

Still, Andy is careful not to trick herself into thinking Miranda could ever reciprocate her feelings. She will enjoy spending time with Miranda while it lasts and being able to send her texts and emails. Miranda has seemed kind of lonely lately, and Andy has been there to fill the void. Willingly, of course, but still. They will be friends, because it works so well for them. She promises herself not to screw it up.

On the opposite side of the table Miranda tries not to get swept up in the romantic gesture of Andy inviting her to this intimate dinner. The selection of customized hors d'œuvres paired with an accompanied wine selection is an incredibly personal sentiment.

They chat through the first round of delicious treats, catching up as if they were never boss and assistant. So much time has passed that they truly feel like equals now; Miranda values Andrea’s time and attention on a whole different level than before. It is a welcome change. She takes a bite of her balsamic beef medallion, enjoying the flavor as Andy tells about submitting her latest project to the _LA Times._

“Anyway,” she says casually after taking a sip of wine, “The ethical sourcing piece should be published next month.”

“Excuse me?” Miranda says, shocked. “You didn’t even mention submitting it until a few minutes ago.”

Andy looks amused. “You know how hard I have worked on it! I didn’t want to say anything, in case it was rejected.”

“I would never judge you for that. Publishing can be very arbitrary. Not to mention political,” Miranda says with conviction.

“I know,” Andy assures her. She swallows nervously before admitting, “I wanted you to be impressed.”

Miranda takes a second then to look across the table at Andrea. She sees a woman whom she respects greatly. Someone with ideals and creativity, to say nothing of her lovely face. Miranda does feel proud indeed, among other things. She rests her hand gently over Andy’s. “Of course I am proud of you, Andrea. You’ve done incredibly well for yourself and others. Never doubt that. Am I clear?”

A wide smile lights up Andy’s face. Miranda is almost blinded by the beauty of it. “Crystal.”

A few hours pass before they are ready to leave the rooftop. Miranda guides Andy towards the elevator with a hand at the small of her back and Andy feels a little thrill at the gentlewomanly gesture. As much as this has felt like the best date she has ever had, she has to keep reminding herself that it is not a date at all. So much for not getting too caught up. 

On the sidewalk Miranda sends a text to Roy as Andy searches in her bag for her phone to call a car of her own. Before she can pull the app up, Miranda asks, “Would you like a ride home?”

Andy would love a ride actually, but does not want to inconvenience Miranda. “I live in the opposite direction from you. It’s getting pretty late.”

“Nonsense,” Miranda says. “Traffic seems light tonight. We should be fine.”

Andy doesn’t argue. With masks back in place, Roy pulls up only a few minutes later to collect them both. He seems a little surprised to see Andy and greets her before putting her address in the GPS. The ride home is smooth as classical music plays softly from the speakers. Miranda’s presence in the car used to give Andy such anxiety. It’s odd how much it soothes her now. 

Before stepping out of the car in front of her building, she turns to Miranda. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

Oddly polite, Miranda responds, “Thank you for inviting me. I had a lovely evening.”

“Me too. See you soon?”

Miranda’s eyes crinkle in a way that lets Andy know she is sporting a small smile beneath her mask. She is mildly grateful this time that Miranda’s lips are covered so that she isn’t tempted to stare at them. “See you soon.”  
  
  
  
  
**September**  
Miranda’s trip to Paris was only a few days long this year which she did not mind in the least. It served as a good distraction from missing her daughters. Between the few fashion shows she did not attend any parties or gatherings. Especially with the threat of catching the virus in the back of her mind. But she did have a chance to do a little shopping. She stopped by a few boutiques and fabric stores, selecting small gifts for Andrea and the girls and swaths of decadent fabric for herself. Her assistant arranges for them to be delivered to New York once she returns.

_Runway_ chugs along just as Miranda does. The design teams have had to get creative with their content seeing as fashion week was largely virtual this year. Socially distanced shows were as safe as they could be but still made her a little anxious to attend. Nonetheless, she is happy to be done with the brunt of it and the September issue came together swimmingly. She has Nigel to thank for a lot of the success, not that she minds. He earned his praise long ago.

Back home, Miranda settles easily back into her routine. During a break in their class schedule, Miranda sends a text to Caroline’s phone to see if one of them is free for a quick chat. A few minutes later she gets a FaceTime request.

“Hello mother!” Cassidy says excitedly into the phone.

“Hello, darling. How are you?”

“Fine I guess,” Cassidy sighs, “I just cleaned our room. Aren’t you proud?”

“Very proud. How’s your sister? You’re both being safe?”

“Don’t let her fool you, mom! She has a paper due at midnight!” Caroline screams from the other end of the room. Miranda chuckles. Some things never change.

“Sometimes you have to procrastinate _one thing_ by doing the _other thing_ you’ve been procrastinating longer,” Cassidy says sagely. “It’s a process.”

“I’m sure,” Miranda says instead of arguing. “Have you at least started the paper? Do you need help?”

“Nah, I’ve got an outline already. It's just a bunch of compiled book annotations, really. I aced the last one.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” Miranda agrees. “But it’s almost four o’clock. You should probably get to work.”

“Fine. Talk to your other child. Bye mom! Love you!”

Before Miranda can respond the screen of her phone swirls around as Cassidy tosses her own phone to her sister. Miranda chats agreeably with Caroline, who has finished her own homework on time, thank you very much.

“I miss you,” Caroline admits easily. She has always been the more sensitive of the two. “And your cooking.” She jokes.

Miranda’s heart melts. She misses them both so very much. “And I you, my dear. I will see you soon, for Thanksgiving and Christmas break, yes?”

“You bet,” Caroline says. “Did I tell you about my chemistry professor?” 

They chat as Caroline tells about her college classes, both in person and online. Miranda tells a few details about her own life and _Runway_ as well, trying her best to not sound as if she misses them too much. They will be home before she knows it.

Later that night she has the hardest time nodding off to sleep. Miranda does not have the brain power to get any work done, and is trying to scale back incrementally and put more trust in her staff. Not to mention her FaceTime session with the girls this afternoon just made her miss them more. Most of the time she is fine, and dedicates her solitary time to the hobbies she has come to enjoy most. Other times, it’s like the loneliness she feels has grown sharp teeth that gnaw at her. Tonight is one of those nights.

With Netflix idling on her screen, Miranda reaches to the bedside table and grabs her phone. It is not terribly late, and Andy is a night owl too sometimes. Sending one text couldn’t hurt even if it goes unanswered until morning.  
**_  
M: Are you asleep?_**

**_A: Not yet. What’s up?_ **

Miranda’s phone vibrates with an incoming call.

“Hey. You alright?” Andy says.

“Yes. Hello. I’m quite alright. But I could use a recommendation,” Miranda replies.

“Interesting. For what?”

“I can’t seem to sleep or find anything to watch.” Miranda sighs. “I would prefer something mindless, but not as mindless as Real Housewives.”

“Got you covered. Try Schitt’s Creek. It takes a few episodes to get better but it’s worth it.” Andy supplies. “And hey, don’t knock RHONY until you try it.”

“Thank you for your sage advice.” Miranda selects the search bar with her remote.

“Any time. Empty nest hitting you hard tonight?” Andy dares to ask.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Miranda admits.

“I found a great BuzzFeed listicle with a bunch of recommendations. I’ll send it over to you in the morning.”

“You’ve always been very resourceful.”

“I try.”

As the days go by, Miranda and Andy talk fairly often. As much as she hates to admit it, the Buzzfeed listicle becomes a prominent bookmark on her phone. She makes her way through the suggestions, stopping and moving to the next if the plot does not suit her. 

Her silky midnight blue fabric arrives from France (ethically sourced, of course) and she gets to work on an evening gown she sketched out on the flight home. She gets experimental with her morning coffee recipes, since it would be silly to call her assistant every morning just to demand a delivery. She talks to Andrea, and Donnatella, and Nigel.

All in all, Miranda is content. In moments when she talks with Andrea or her daughters she actually manages to be happy. It turns out that the third thing 2020 teaches Miranda is how to find contentment in her everyday activities. After all, a worldwide pandemic can arrive at any moment and threaten your entire way of life, if not your actual life as well. You may as well strive for happiness in the time you have left.

**_A: Hey, are you busy? I could pick your brain for a second. I have a bit of writer’s block._ **

**_M: Netflix. I can be available in approximately 17 minutes._ **

**_A: Nice. What are you watching?_ **

**_M: Ratched._ **

**_A: Oh yes. Just ping me when you’re done. Ms. Paulson deserves your undivided attention._ **

Half an hour later, Miranda finds herself on a video chat with Andrea. Even through the tiny screen Miranda feels a small spark of attraction. Andrea sports a large, comfortable looking sweater and no makeup. A few colored pens cut stick jauntily out of her tied-up hair. She is gorgeous. It feels like it has been ages since Miranda has seen her.

“It’s good to see you.” Andy voices Miranda’s thoughts aloud. “How was your show?” 

“It’s a bit gory, but good. I’m only two episodes in.” Miranda says. She walks to the kitchen with the intention of preparing a light dinner. Perhaps if she is quick about it Andy will still be on the phone so that she will have a little company as she eats.

“I won’t spoil the rest of the but it’s a doozy.” Andy says.

“I can tell,” Miranda whisks together lemon juice and olive oil to dress her spring mix. The chicken she grilled last night will go nicely on top.

“Brilliant acting too. Although I’d watch anything with Sarah Paulson in it so I may be biased.”

“Oh really?” Miranda says, salaciously. 

“Oh, yes.” 

“Good to know,” she replies. “You said you needed assistance,” she continues, sitting down to her dinner. “What can I help you with?”

Andy launches into her next project and the intricacies of it as Miranda listens attentively. The sun sets long before they hang up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One part left to go!


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part! A Christmas miracle, if you will. I hope you all enjoy!

**November**  
The day before Thanksgiving Andy gets a call from Miranda. If she is being honest, Andy is a little surprised to hear from her. She figures Miranda would be busy around this time with preparations for the girls returning home for a long break from school. Miranda has mentioned their homecoming more than a few times over the past week. Andy found it particularly adorable. Miranda had their rooms cleaned and their winter clothes pulled out of storage. She had even asked them if there was anything they would like prepared for dinner.

“Hello.” Miranda says glumly. 

Andy can tell instantly that something is wrong. "What’s going on?"

“Everyone is fine,” Miranda assures her quickly. “But Caroline just called. She and Cassidy won’t be coming home for Thanksgiving. At least not for ten days.”

“Shit.” Andy can feel her disappointment. “What happened?”

“One of their suite mates at school tested positive for COVID yesterday. They don’t want to risk bringing it home. Of course I agreed that they should self-quarantine.” The thought of doing the right thing doesn’t make Miranda feel any less rotten. “I’ve put them up in a hotel right outside of campus and they are scheduled to get tested in a few days.”

“I’m so sorry,” Andy says sincerely. “I know how much you were looking forward to seeing them.”

“I really was,” Miranda admits.

“Do you want me to come over instead? No one should be alone on Thanksgiving.”

“What about you?” Miranda asks, “Don’t you have plans?”

“I was just going to eat dinner with my brother and his wife. They live in New Jersey. He was going to pick me up tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t want to ruin your plans.” Miranda clears unshed tears from her throat.

“You wouldn’t be. You would be improving them by a million percent, actually. My brother’s wife is allergic to almost everything.”

Andy can feel her hopeful hesitation. Of course Miranda wants to say yes, but the last thing she wants to be is a burden. Andy decides to phrase it as if Miranda is doing her a favor.

“Please give me an excuse to not have to eat a quote-unquote-turkey somehow made from jackfruit.”

Miranda laughs. “Alright.”

“Perfect. I’ll get a rapid test today just to make triple-sure I won’t accidentally kill us both.”

“Thank you for that. It’s settled then? I’ll see you tomorrow?” Miranda’s voice sounds so hopeful, Andy wouldn’t dare even joke about not showing up.

“You will.” Andy agrees. “Want me to bring anything?”

“Only if you have a good wine pairing for chicken piccata.”

“You got it.”  


* * *

  
Andy agonizes over her wine selections for thirteen whole minutes before grabbing the one that Gavin recommends and heading towards the door. The temperature isn’t too low but the wind is ruthless, so she grabs a beanie before leaving and is glad for it on the way.

She finds a few butterflies jittering in her stomach as she rings Miranda’s doorbell. Miranda opens the door to greet her after a few moments and she is truly a sight for sore eyes. Andy doesn’t bother wiping the dopey grin off of her face as she appreciates the sight of Miranda in her relaxed casual wear. Her slacks may be designer and her sweater is definitely cashmere, but both look comfy and warm. Andy steps inside and follows her to the kitchen.

“There’s an ice bucket for your wine,” Miranda says after taking her coat. She admires her own handiwork on the leather jacket before placing it in the closet. She was right. It fits Andy like a glove. 

After washing her hands and setting her wine aside to chill Andy asks, “Can I help with anything? It smells delicious.”

“You can choose some music.” Miranda suggests, handing over her phone. “The food will be ready shortly.”

Andy chooses one of her favorite bands and puts the setting on shuffle. It feels a little too early for holiday music anyway. The sultry voice of the main singer fills up the space around them. Andy takes a seat at the counter to watch Miranda expertly flip shallots in brown butter to crisp them before pouring them over roasted french beans. Andy marvels at her skill.

“Can you grab the wine opener from the drawer by the sink? Your bottle should almost be chilled enough by now.”

“Sure,” Andy agrees. She places a bracing hand on Miranda’s back to squeeze by her and Miranda draws in a sharp breath. Andy’s concentration is focused on the quest for the bottle opener and Miranda is grateful that she doesn’t notice. By the time she figures out Miranda’s fancy wine opener with very little help from the chucking editor they are ready to eat.

They choose to sit down to eat in the formal dining room adjacent to the kitchen simply because they can. The table looks a little silly when it’s just set for two but they go all out anyway, with candles and place settings and vintage wine glasses. Instead of sitting at two opposite ends like royalty, Andy sits at the head of the table with Miranda on her left.

Before they dig in, Andy bows her head and gestures to Miranda to do the same.

“Dear God,” Andy says with mock seriousness. Miranda bows her head but cracks one eye open, knowing there’s likely some mischief afoot.

“Covid sucks. Amen.”

“Amen,” Miranda agrees.

They lift their heads to eat.

The meal is delicious and the company is even better. Andy manages to distract Miranda from her sadness with commentary on her latest favorite shows and follow-up details of her LA Times article. Mirada is a little bashful to admit that she bought a few copies the second it was printed. Perhaps one day she will frame them as a gift. 

After dinner Andy cleans the kitchen as a thank you for the amazing meal. She is reluctant to leave their little nest of comfort for the evening and Miranda is in no hurry to send her off. Miranda suggests they see if any good movies are on television in the upstairs living room. She refuses to put up a tree before December first but has a few twinkling lights on the mantle because the girls have always enjoyed them. They usually mark the start of the holiday season.

The Holiday is their best option on cable it turns out. They aren’t much in the mood to concentrate on anything too heavy or complicated so this suits them just as well. The house gets a little chilly after the sun goes down, so Miranda grabs the knitted blanket folded up on the back of the couch. 

“Do you mind sharing? The other throw is in the wash.”

"Of course not," Andy says easily. “Movies are always better when you’re extra cozy.”

Miranda turns the volume up just slightly after spreading the blanket over their laps. She knows that she is playing with fire here, but cannot seem to stop herself. Andrea agreed to spend the holiday with her, finds a way to contact her most days, wears the jacket Miranda made her daily as if she does not own others. Surely those actions convey some sort of interest. She would like to find out. Soon.

An hour into the movie, Andy feels her eyelids growing heavy. She glances to her left to see Miranda has nodded off, her chest rising softly, looking completely relaxed even as one shoulder has slipped free of her wide-necked sweater. Andy isn’t ready for sleep, too caught up in being this close to someone so guarded like Miranda. So often she has admired Miranda’s beauty and effortless grace, but she has rarely been given the opportunity to admire so closely. 

Pretty soon her blinks slow until she can’t fight it anymore. Perhaps after a quick nap she will have the energy to call for a ride and make her way home. The night has to end eventually, even if it is far better than any pandemic Thanksgiving she could have hoped for.

It's after midnight when Andy feels a firm hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly to ease her awake.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she yawns. “Let me find my phone and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t be silly. I have two guest rooms. It’s too late for you to go home.”

Andy glances around to find a clock, shocked to see it is a few minutes shy of one in the morning. “If you’re sure, I’d really appreciate it.” 

“Follow me,” Miranda says, leading the way down the hall.

They make a pit stop at Miranda’s bedroom, and Andy idles at the door. She sleepily leans against the doorframe as if afraid to cross over the threshold. Miranda opens a chest of drawers to pull out a dark blue silky pajama set and hands it over. With the clothing in hand, Andy follows her to the guest room further down the hall.

“There should be a toothbrush and anything else you would need under the sink.” Miranda gestures vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.

Andy smiles, “Got it.”

“Wake me if you need anything.”

“I will,” she nods.

Miranda pauses for a second as if deciding to speak before turning to go back to her own room. “And, Andrea…” she hesitates, “Thank you. For being here. Everything you’ve done today means a great deal to me.”

Andy takes the words for what they’re worth. “You mean a great deal to me too.”

Miranda lets her lips form a soft smile. This willful girl has always seen right through her, hasn’t she? Before giving herself a chance to back away from Andy, she leans in closer, placing a gentle hand on one cheek and kissing the other.

“Goodnight,” she says just above a whisper. She turns to walk back in the direction of her own bedroom.

In a haze, Andy hears the door close but still stands stricken in the hallway. It’s probably a good thing Miranda left before the very obvious blush streaks across her face and chest. Her interest may not be quite as unrequited as she originally thought. That’s certainly an inviting thought to carry her through the night.

She sheds her black jeans and top, slipping into her borrowed pajamas and sliding under expensive sheets. Not that she didn’t spend a good amount of money on her own bedroom set, but It’s almost embarrassing how good this bed feels in comparison to her own.

Thinking of Miranda’s petal-soft lips on her cheek, she falls almost instantly to sleep.  


* * *

  
Even though the Runway staff has the Friday off, Miranda is a habitual early riser. She makes her way downstairs as quietly as she can so as not to wake up Andrea. She realizes that the gesture is in vain when not even halfway through her cup of coffee she hears footsteps coming closer to the kitchen. She turns to the cabinet to find a mug for her.

When Andy arrives in the kitchen the sight of Miranda dumbfounds her. Miranda’s hair is a little tousled, her comfortable top is slightly askew, and her bare ankles peek out just below her wide-legged pants. How on earth did Miranda’s husbands have the privilege of waking up to this glorious sight every morning and manage to let her go? She has never felt lucker to witness such a sight. What’s more is that she is tired of dancing around her attraction. It’s time to figure out if Miranda wants the same thing.

"Did you sleep well?” Miranda asks without turning around. She fills a large mug with coffee and reaches towards the sugar canister to bring it closer to her guest.

“Like a rock,” Andy replies. “Thank you for letting me stay over.”

Miranda finally turns to give Andrea her full attention as she hands over the hot mug. Andy looks strangely alert, the full night of sleep having apparently done her well. Andy takes a long sip of the brew, savoring the taste as it goes down smoothly.

"Any time,” Miranda says softly. This is not an offer she makes lightly. She hopes Andrea understands.

“You mean that?” Andy sets her mug down.

“I do.”

The air around them suddenly feels supercharged. Andy looks at the honesty reflected in Miranda’s eyes. She notices the attraction there too, in the way Miranda looks slightly flushed and expectant. Somehow she hadn’t noticed before. Her insecurities about her own feelings must have clouded her judgement.

Andy moves closer to Miranda and cups a gentle hand around Miranda’s jaw to draw her in. She gives her just a moment to back away but doesn’t need it. Miranda’s eyes drop to Andy’s lips before she leans in fully for a kiss. 

The first touch of their lips is like magic, sending a spark down Miranda’s spine. She draws her arms around Andy’s neck to pull her even closer, moaning as she feels a flash of Andy’s tongue.

Hearing Miranda’s approval Andy abandons her reservations. Her desire ratchets up as she backs Miranda up against the counter to lean her against it for leverage. Her lips continue moving sensuously along Miranda’s as she reaches down to grab at her ass. Miranda gasps at the contact, a thrill igniting in her belly.

On a whim, Andy lifts gently, hoisting Miranda up onto the counter to gain access to her neck. She glides kisses down the smooth column, she can’t help tasting and nipping gently, loving the breathy little sounds Miranda makes. Already she feels almost drunk with passion, addicted to watching the woman before her so unabashed and passionate.

“You have about three seconds to slow down,” Miranda says between moans, “Before I lose what’s left of my mind.”

Andy cannot think of a single thing she would enjoy more. She brings her lips up from Miranda’s neck to the shell of her ear, biting the lobe. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Oh God,” Miranda arches her back, “Not at all.” She’d let this woman do anything she wants. Right here in the kitchen, even.

Andy takes that as her permission. She grabs Miranda’s hand and leads her away from the kitchen in search of a horizontal surface. Just about any of them would do right about now. The couch in the living room is as good a spot as any. Miranda has no objections.

Andy plops down onto the expensive tweed fabric, reaching out a hand to grab Miranda who follows her lead. Miranda straddles her lap, using her new vantage point to draw Andy into another kiss. It’s been decades since she has done this with another woman but with Andrea it feels more like anticipation than nerves. Andy runs her hands up Miranda’s sides as they kiss, smoothing them under Miranda’s shirt along skin that feels silky soft. When Miranda makes no objections, her hands move towards Miranda’s breasts with a little more determination.

“Yes,” Miranda sighs, sensing her hesitation. “Touch them.”

“God,” Andy sighs, holding perfection in her hands. She rolls the sensitive peaks between her fingertips through the lace. “You feel amazing.”

Impatiently, Miranda yanks off her shirt. She reaches behind herself and unclasps her bra as well, tossing both behind her in the general direction of the coffee table. Andy’s eyes grow wide with the object of her desire positioned right in front of her. She brings her lips closer to taste, replacing one of her hands with her mouth. She can’t resist sucking the nipple into her mouth gently, delighted as Miranda arches toward her. She alternates back and forth as Miranda’s moans echo softly between them.

“Please,” Miranda says desperately, “I can’t wait anymore. Please.”

Without even removing Miranda’s loose trousers she dips her hand inside her pants, running her thumb along Miranda’s clit over the lace in her underwear. Miranda’s jaw drops open in pleasure. Andy can feel the wetness already there and it drives her crazy. God, this woman is exquisite. She rubs her thumb in tiny circles as Miranda cries out. 

“Inside,” she manages to say with a breathy moan.

Andy has always been good at following Miranda’s instructions. She slides the underwear down, entering Miranda with a slim finger. “Like this?” she asks as Miranda’s breath hitches.

“More,” she says, and Andy adds another finger. Miranda begins to cant her hips forward in a rhythm, edging closer to release. Andy can feel how close she is and decides to show her mercy running a gentle thumb along Miranda’s sensitive bundle of nerves as she curls her fingers. 

Andy feels the rhythmic spasm as Miranda climaxes, letting out a long moan as her hips slow. That was incredible, unlike anything she’s ever felt.

“Fuck.” Andy says, watching her come down from her high. Miranda’s head drops down to rest against Andy’s shoulder. She lets out a little chuckle. “I agree.”

Andy slides her hand out gently once Miranda sits back up. Miranda watches with desire as Andy licks each of her fingers clean. She cannot remember the last time she had been this turned on. 

“Now it’s my turn,” she says with a somewhat predatory gleam in her eye. “However you seem to be a little overdressed.”

“We can’t have that, can we?”

“Absolutely not.”

Miranda shifts her weight into her knees to give Andy room to lift off her pajama top. She looks down at the gorgeous sight she’s been gifted with and licks her lips in anticipation. 

Trying not to feel too self conscious, Andy lets her look. Reverently Miranda reaches her hand out to touch Andy, using just the right pressure on her sensitive flesh. The sensation sends a shock straight between her legs and Andy becomes too turned on to feel anything else as Miranda’s hands expertly work her up.

Miranda sits back for a second and braces her hands against the back of the couch to slide down Andy’s body. Andy wants to protest the lack of contact but before she can, Miranda trails kisses down her chest and torso. Her lips capture one of Andy’s nipples and she tests out a gentle bite. Andy lets out a wail of approval so Miranda tries it again. Andy really should have known this woman would be a little predatory, not that she minds one bit.

Once Miranda’s knees hit the rug she briefly glances up to watch Andy’s face. Seeing no protest, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of Andy’s pants to drag them and her underwear down and off. 

“Holy shit,” Andy says, trying not to lose her entire mind at the mere thought of Miranda Priestly going down on her.

“Is this alright?” Miranda asks, just to be sure.

“Oh yeah,” Andy’s hips twitch. “Absolutely.”

Miranda’s eyes twinkle before diving in. She brings her lips to Andy’s center, kissing just above her mound to tease. Already Andy feels just about ready to burst, watching Miranda come had nearly pushed her over the edge anyway. She brings a leg up to rest it on Miranda’s shoulder, opening herself up. Miranda flattens her tongue and drags it along the length of Andy, long and slow to savor the taste. Andy’s moans grow louder as Miranda continues, alternating the pressure of her tongue to keep Andy right on the edge.

Finally Miranda brings her lips around Andy’s clit and sucks gently. Andy runs her hands through Miranda’s soft silver hair, drawing her in even closer as her hips rise up. She tips over the fine line she was walking as her orgasm slams into her. 

Miranda gentles her touch as Andy’s bones turn to mush. She melts into a satisfied heap on the couch. Miranda urges her to lie down and covers Andy’s body with her own. With Miranda’s head on her chest Andy runs her hands along her back, enjoying the smoothness.

“That was amazing,” she sighs.

Miranda chuckles. It had been fantastic. “Indeed.”

After about fifteen minutes of basking in their afterglow, Miranda hears a stomach growl and is almost certain it’s not her own. Andy blushes.

“Come on,” she begins to stand up and search for her own pajama top. “I’ll make eggs.”

Andy makes no move to get up. “Eggs? I don’t think I’m quite done with you yet.”

“I did not mention anything about being done,” Miranda slips her slightly wrinkled shirt over her head, not bothering with her bra. “I simply wish to keep your energy up.”

Andy’s eyes gleam. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”  


* * *

  
Late Friday evening Miranda accepts a FaceTime from her daughters as she makes a cup of tea. She props the phone against the toaster so she can still talk as the water steeps. Caroline and Cassidy expected to see their mother looking kind of sullen and upset after a Thanksgiving spent alone, especially after so much time apart, but she has an odd sort of glow about her. She almost seems as if she is floating.

They chat for a bit, and make plans to come home in about a week if they both test negative for the virus. Suddenly they can hear the sound of someone shuffling around in the background of Miranda’s video frame, just out of sight.

“Mom?” Cassidy says. “Who is that? Is someone there?”

“Andrea is here. She stayed over in the guest room for Thanksgiving to keep me company for the holiday.” This is not technically a lie.

“Oh. Well that’s nice I guess.” Cassidy replies.

Caroline’s asks then, “What did you guys get up to?”

It is only due to her many years of cultivating the world’s most indifferent poker face that Miranda does not blush. Hopefully by the time they arrive home she will think of an appropriate answer to that question.

“I’ll tell you about it later.”

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! I sometimes have a little difficulty writing from Miranda’s POV, which is how most of this story is written. (And yes, I was incredibly nervous about posting the sexy bits.. LOL) If you enjoyed this work, have feedback, or have other story ideas please let me know! I would really love to hear from you guys. Happy Holidays :)


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